


Interview with a von Carstein

by SPX



Category: Warhammer
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPX/pseuds/SPX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Hallbjörn Ludviksson, the only survivor of a monster hunters expedition under Emperor Karl Franz' service, tells to Count Mannfred von Carstein his misadventures in a lost place deep in Sylvania ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interview with a von Carstein

The crooked fingers hand tore off with a sharp movement the tissue hood that covered the prisoner’s head. This latter shook his head several times, and considered the situation, which wasn’t brilliant. Disarmed, bound by strong chains around his wrists, his uniform was torn and stained with blood. His face still bore traces of dark bludgeons and cuts, and he felt the sweat smearing his shirt.

He was in a huge dining room, lit by many candles arranged on the table and hung to copper chandeliers. Before him, an assortment of meals more appetising than the others were waiting to be tasted.

But the element that mostly held his attention was the individual who was sitting at the end of the table. This was a man who seemed great, even sat on the long chair back. His clothes made with precious fabrics didn’t conceal an impressive build. His face was very pale, under his jet black mane. His eyes, especially, shone with a light which put the prisoner very uncomfortable. It emanated from his person a sense of authority and charisma so powerful that it seemed almost visible. However, his wasn’t as large radiation like ordinary warlords, rather a veil of darkness that stifled all light, and any surrounding heat.

\- Welcome to my home, Hallbjörn Ludviksson, Captain of the Guard of Emperor Karl Franz, officially. I understand that you are much more than that, unofficially, hence your presence here. You are an expert in ... "monsters hunt", you and your subordinates. Peace to their souls.

He raised a velvet gloved hand , and ordered with a deep and strong voice: 

\- Release our guest.

The imperial soldier struggled.

\- You've heard, cow shits? Hands off!

He flung an elbow to the servant on his left, and the servant on his right received a bludgeon on his calf. The man sat behind the table replied with a weary voice:

\- Captain Ludviksson... Please, show a little savoir vivre.  
\- What would you say if you were "invited" this way?  
\- Right... You’ve scored one point.

The house master clapped his hands twice. Immediately, the chains holding Hallbjörn’s arms fell noisily on the floor. The Norse rubbed his wrists, and looked at his host with surprise. This latter leaned forward.

\- Please, have a seat. Put yourself at ease, eat, drink. After what you faced, you deserve a little comfort.

The two servants were each placed in a corner of the room and waited. Hallbjörn did not move, his eyes heavy with suspicion.

The man sitting sighed annoyed and asked:

\- Do you know who I am, master Ludviksson?  
\- You look like a lord, a Graf, or some kind of guy that commands, anyway.  
\- Indeed. I am Count Mannfred von Carstein. Does it sound familiar to you?

The Norse squinted.

\- Vaguely. You rule this insane region?  
\- Yes. My family reign on Sylvania centuries. I am the last descendant of the von Carstein dynasty.  
\- Wait... Ah, I remember! Rumors say that you're a... rather unnatural character.

Mannfred von Carstein had a cruel smile. So Hallbjörn noticed his teeth. He had upper canines much longer than normal. He just needed a little time to remember what it meant. The Count decrypted the expression on the face of the Norse, and said with a cruel chuckle as well:

\- Yes, you understood. I am a Vampire.  
\- Wow! And your... your subjects are aware of it?

This time, the Count burst into a powerful sneer.

\- Of course they are! And I assure you they respect me, they even like me. They know who I really am. A vampire, but a leader of men first. I restored order and discipline, I united citizens of Sylvania under one banner. And, believe it or not, this has enabled us to... You’re not born in the Empire, are you?  
\- No, but I lived there for some time.  
\- Do you know what the Storm of Chaos is?  
\- Yeah. The invasion of chaotic hordes came to mess up the Empire? They passed by my home country. I’ve learned they were stopped at Middenheim.  
\- Indeed. Lord of the End Times Archaon was the head of the horde. The direct intervention of Emperor Karl Franz, Archmage Teclis and Grand Theogonist Volkmar were needed to stop him. But know that my legions were there with me at their head. Without my intervention, the outcome of this battle might have been different.  
\- You eat people, you torture, you are a tyrant.  
\- It’s true, I am a tyrant. A tyrant in a world where only the strongest and most ruthless may be necessary, and write history. And my subjects like me. They know they are sheep, and every flock needs a shepherd to lead them. In Sylvania, I am this shepherd. Humans need superior beings to lead them. They are not free, but they’re satisfied with. And I don’t eat people. I drink their blood, true, but not enough to kill. Some of my subjects even voluntarily give me their vital fluid, as my two servants behind you. Vampires are evil for you, but a necessary evil that make you live as long as possible. The farmer takes care of his cow, so it can provide milk. The cow will die of oldness or illness, but won’t have to fear the wolf, well protected in its stable. You are the cow, I am the farmer. Even your emperor knows I’m a Vampire, and he doesn’t make war against me because he knows that I am a lesser evil compared to other things much worse than me. Do you understand?  
\- Yeah, well... I think.

Mannfred von Carstein no longer smiled.

\- Now you know who I am and what I can do, don’t waste time in trifles. You are in the middle of my castle ,in the heart of my domain, deep in my land, in my country. You have absolutely no chance to escape. Now, if I wanted you dead, you would already be in a coffin and buried. Or... oh, forget it. So, useless to try anything stupid. You are my guest. The food is healthy, it is a young deer killed this morning, prepared with care by my best cook. The wine is a nice vintage, without being too exceptional, I grant you, after all, you’re not someone as important as a Count Elector. There is no poison, no drugs or anything in this food. And I have no intention of harming you. So that you are worthy of my hospitality, I give you my word that you will leave this place and go home safe and sound. All I want is your version of the story about what happened at the Regenschirm manor. I don’t pretend to know everything, sir Ludviksson, and if I have eyes and ears everywhere in Sylvania, I admit that what happened within the walls of this property has escaped me. But I’m curious to know what happened there while you and your men were in. My question is: could you satisfy my curiosity, in exchange for your life?

The Norse was not trusting by nature, much less vis-à-vis turned to darkness so openly people. But he felt exhausted by the events experienced in the last two days, and felt he wasn’t in condition to face an opponent who looked so powerful. Also, he thought it was prudent to play the game according to his rules. He sat at the table, forked the steaming meat, sniffed it... apparently not poison. He ate a bite with caution. Nothing. The Count smiled slightly, and poured for himself a glass of reddish and thick drink contained in a black glass bottle.

\- I’m listening you, sir Ludviksson. Eat without manners, I won’t be shocked. Vassil, serve a glass of wine to our friend.

One of the servants approached the Norse and filled his glass of wine. Hallbjörn ate heartily and drank a few sips. Then he cleared his throat and said:

\- I don’t know if you could believe me, Count.  
\- I saw so much unbelievable things in centuries of unlife! There is not many things that might seem impossible to me. Surprise me.

*

For three days, the small company was wandering in the forest, without finding what it was searching there. This place was only a few miles from Drakenhof. Drakenhof, the a thousand times cursed castle where live the von Carstein dynasty since eons. Drakenhof and its area were literally corrupted by warpstone. It was whispered a piece of Morrslieb crashed on the land during the Comets Rain which took place in thousand and four hundred years earlier, thus infecting the earth itself with a corrupting malignancy. The inhabitants of Sylvania were usually reluctant to show happy and healthy, those of Drakenhof bent constantly under the threat of disease and mutation.

Four men were hunting something. They came from afar.

One of them was born in Nuln, the "Jewel of the Empire." His name was Frantz. He was a blond young man, barely an adult, but had lost the enthusiasm of youth, after seeing his village devastated by a horde of Orcs. Only the vengeance by bloodshed enemies of the Empire motivated him now.

Beckett, the second reel was a tall and thin figure, with a long red moustache. He hold between his hands a long harquebus topped with a scope that significantly increased his chances to shoot a target at long range. Originally from Altdorf, he was taciturn by nature, and never spoke of his past, nor the reasons which had led to this path.

Back stood the oldest member of the small company. A dwarf, encased in a leather doublet, named Klemet, was watching the rear of the group, a large double-bladed axe in his hands. Curiously, he was more talkative than Beckett, and was very talented to boost the morale of the company, with famous Dwarf bawdy songs. But he had not the heart to sing, merely muttering some unintelligible syllables in his brown beard. He dared not show it, but he was not really serene.

It wasn’t surprising when you know that these four men were the only survivors of a company that had counted a dozen. And the leading man, the captain, was thinking about it while cutting branches on his path with his hatchet.

Hallbjörn Ludviksson came from Norsca, this distant land in the north of the Empire, beyond Kislev. Norsca was the direct door to the Realm of Chaos, where no sane soul thought to wander. He had faced repeatedly demons. One day, a horde of berserkers to which he belonged was defeated by a contingent of Chaos warriors. This defeat had surprised and irritated the Norse. He and his comrades had been more numerous, more motivated, and yet they had been overflowing, and finally slaughtered.

Hallbjörn understood the demonic servants had received something that had lacked the Norse, a science called "strategy", which allowed to take advantage of all the parameters for elaborate complex plans of attack and defence. He decided to go south in the Empire, to find a master to teach him this knowledge. He began his education by enrolling in the military academy of Altdorf, and took the tape.

If he had learned a little about mass fighting and various rank formations, he was mostly involved in "special missions". Involuntary involved in a vast conspiracy of servants of Khorne, the Blood God, he understood that the Old World wasn’t quite as simple and straightforward. He could have spent a few weeks at home, and teach what he had learned. Then Graf Boris Todbringer of Middenheim had sent him accomplish a particular task.

Although imperial soldier, he had acquired the status of "shadow hunter". On his right hand, the god Ulric himself had printed his mark, a symbol representing a wolf holding between its paws a hammer. It was the sign he was chosen to unite the faithful worshipers of Sigmar and Ulric under one banner against the enemies of the Empire.

And therefore, the Graf had sent him a reconnaissance at the other end of the Empire, in the greatest secrecy. Here, deep in Sylvania, the Undergrowth Terror was hiding. Local stories spoke of a monster, a battalion of undead, mutants... he had to check it out. Hallbjörn wasn’t the closest special agent to the problem, but he belonged to people of Norse, what encouraged the Graf to designate him. Norse people, more accustomed to Chaos, were inherently braver and more aggressive. Hallbjörn was entrusted with the command of a small battalion of eleven volunteers. For them, it was a sort of "rite of passage" to climb a rung.

However, since they had left Altdorf, everything went wrong. First, one had finally deserted. Then, beyond Nuln, a band of Orcs had attacked their convoy. Two dead. The descent to the river Stir was not quiet either, and three of them had succumbed to the arrows of a pirate ship wreckers. Arrived on the outskirts of Mordheim, the City of the Damned, greed had pushed one of them to make a detour to the abandoned city, known to contain many treasures. There he only found damnation, this place being full of very dangerous substances, including warpstone, the crystallization of Chaos energy, whose contact caused death, or worse, mutations. Beckett needed just one bullet to end the suffering of the poor man. Finally, they had went past Vanhaldenhof, and were driven into the Sinister Wood, where huge and wild wolves had eaten alive the youngest member of the expedition.

So they were now only four. Finally got to where was the famous "Undergrowth Terror". It promised to be hard. Nature itself was hostile. Trees, numerous and close, were all black, their branches and trunks were twisted, their grey and hard leaves crackled under soles of their boots. An icy wind blew in the ears of Frantz who shuddered.

\- Captain?

The Norse turned to the young Imperial.

\- Yeah, what is it?  
\- Have you the same weather in Norsca?

Indeed, the sun never appeared, as a blanket of grey clouds obscured the whole sky. The round shape of the golden disc appeared vaguely, its rays failed to warm the skin of the face of the cadet. The Norse, tall, blond, with a neatly trimmed beard, corresponded to the archetype that concerned northerners. He was accustomed to such a weather.

\- Yeah.  
\- It shouldn’t bother you too much?  
\- I can even say for me, it’s good. No rain, no snow.  
\- Captain!

Beckett had frozen, hand lifted. No one moved. The gunman murmured:

\- I’ve heard something...

Suddenly, he turned on his heels and raised his rifle to one of the trees. The harquebus growled. The bullet struck the trunk, and something fell from the tree with a shrill cry. Immediately Klemet and Frantz threw themselves on the individual and restrained him in a heartbeat.

\- Rat! barked the Dwarf.

Hallbjörn widened his eyes in surprise. No doubt, the groaning, struggling vainly in the arms of his two men being was a Skaven. A rat-man, flesh and fur.

It was not the first time that the Norse saw such a creature. He had already done some "cleaning" during patrols in the sewers of the city. Two things, however, were not normal. To begin with, the Skaven rarely ventured outside in the countryside, and preferred to stay in their underground cities. Then he was in a sad state. Covered in blood, eyes bulging, mouth foaming, trembling like a leaf, probably scared to death, not because of the four soldiers.

\- We're gonna make this rat face cry! Frantz growled, pulling his dagger from his belt.  
\- No! cried the Norse of hands.

Klemet and Frantz lifted up their prisoner by force. It didn’t even defend. He stammered:

\- Mercy-mercy! Not hurt Skousîkh! Skousîkh scared-terrified!

The Norse remained stoical. The Skaven was moaning and sobbing, traumatized.

\- Kneel him! Hallbjörn ordered.  
\- Gotta slaughter him! said the Dwarf.  
\- Let it bleed, as the Chaos crap it is! Frantz gritted between his strained teeth.

Beckett had already drew his sword and advanced. The Skaven again cried in despair. Hallbjörn held the shooter, placing his hand on his chest.

\- Stop it.  
\- Captain, you won’t...  
\- I told you to stop! Range your weapon, soldier. And you, hold him, but do not overtighten!

The Norse crouched near the Skaven. He spoke calmly.

\- Listen, meathead: I think you know something. A Skaven alone wouldn’t never stay here.  
\- Skousîkh nice-obedient, man-thing! Please not kill me!

Hallbjörn seized the chin of the prisoner, its jaw clenched between his thumb and forefinger to immobilize, forcing it to look in his eyes.

\- I won’t kill you. You tell me what you do here, and then I let you go. Got it?  
\- Y... yes, oh big and strong warrior! the Skaven hardly articulated.  
\- Be careful, if you try to escape, my friends will tear your head and tail off! Clear?  
\- Oh yes, oh yes, noble and powerful lord!

The captain released his grip, and asked quietly:

\- Good. What are you doing here? Skaven are always moving in band, especially when they go to the surface!  
\- True-true, but Skousîkh... too scared. Too awful.  
\- What is scaring you, Skousîkh?

The Skaven whined louder.

\- Skousîkh follows Grey Seer Krasteech.  
\- A Grey Seer! Klemet repeated. There’s a Grey Seer around here!  
\- Bad omen, Beckett murmured with a mournful voice.  
\- Grey Seer Krasteech said: "Many warpstone here-there, at dead-things land, take it!" So, our terrier moved-moved to new location. Band near-close of a... a... Skousîkh not know. Big stone-wood hutch where men-things sleep.  
\- A house?  
\- Yes! Large, very large house. Grey Seer Krasteech said: "wait, gonna go pick warpstone, I come back." Left to mouse... err, house. We wait a night, then another, then another, then another... Krasteech no come back. And then, finally, Grey Seer returns. He very happy-glad! Says "Krasteech has house, house for us-us. Krasteech ate man-thing lived the house".  
\- So, you bivouacked in the house.  
\- Yes-yes, oh sublime gold-furred fighter! Then we spent two full moons in. Krasteech said, "I will give orders for the glory of the Horned Rat". Then we waited. Again and again. But Krasteech not give orders. And Krasteech... change.  
\- "Change"? repeated the Norse. How so?

Skousîkh loudly swallowed his saliva, and a small tear dropped from the corner of his eye. Hallbjörn realised he would have to remember the most painful part of the story.

\- Come on, pal. It’s over, anyway. I promise you have nothing to fear from me. Talk, you’ll feel better.  
\- Is it true, O great man-thing incarnated god?

The Norse looked his three stooges one by one, and said:

\- Do you understand? When he said everything he knows, let him go.  
\- You’re crazy! Klemet shouted.  
\- Captain, you’re not serious! Frantz added.

Hallbjörn stood up, and stared at the young man.

\- I’m the captain, I’m your commander, I am the one who decides, soldier!

Then, returning to the Skaven:

\- Keep talking.  
\- Yes, great-wonderful-good lord! Krasteech do not give orders, just wants to bring men-things and beasts to eat. We obey, but not orders yet. And then he became... different.  
\- Different? How different?  
\- Skousîkh didn’t understand. Either Bâghinz nor Kradoss. Nobody understood. Krasteech increasingly angry, shouts more and more often. After two moons Krasteech speak no more, give orders no more. Only squeak-cry and eat. Skousîkh was very afraid, and finally chose to go and find another terrier where live. Krasteech too... unhealthy. Crazy. Dilapidated.  
\- Okay, I understand. You know something else?  
\- No-no, no-no! Sworn-promise!

Hallbjörn thought. He knew a little Skaven people, and seeing one in such a state was rather unusual. Typically, Skaven feared their leaders, rightly. Leaders constantly inculcated fear in their underlings to suppress any revolt attempt. It was normal. See a Skaven talking about his Grey Seer in these terms was far more disturbing. The Norse vowed to redouble his vigilance.

\- Where’s this house where your master hides?  
\- This way, this way, squeaked Skousîkh, showing a direction with the tip of his nose.  
\- Good. Klemet, Frantz, release him.  
\- My Captain! cried the young man.  
\- THAT’S AN ORDER!

The Dwarf reluctantly loosened the stranglehold of his fingers on the arm of the Skaven. Frantz pushed him firmly. The wretched ratman rose swiftly, and mumbled, still incredulous:

\- Thank you, thank you, O magnanimous magnate beautiful!  
\- Beat it now. I never want to see you!

Skousîkh didn’t need to hear this twice. He made off as fast as he could, and disappeared into the mist in a few seconds.

 

Beckett winced.

\- This is madness!  
\- This is pity! replied the Norse. And that’s the difference between us and them.  
\- A fucking creature of Chaos doesn’t deserve pity! Klemet spat.  
\- I thought Dwarves were careful with honour?

The Dwarf blushed with anger.

\- How dare you doubt my honour, captain of my balls? I recorded the killing of my family by this crap in the Great Book of Grudges! Letting go one is insulting my parents, my brothers and sisters!  
\- Fight against Skaven invading your fortress is one thing. Execute a disarmed Skaven begging for his life is an other.  
\- But they all are like that! protested Frantz, who had also faced Skaven in Altdorf. Always whining to coax you before backstabbing you!  
\- This one was really scared, Frantz. Real trouble happened, even for him. And we are soldiers, not assassins. Anyway, he won’t run far. Listen.

All were silent. After a minute, they heard barking and soon terrified screeches that quickly muted. Skousîkh wouldn’t find another terrier. Hallbjörn continued:

\- No need to stain our weapons him, he wasn’t worthy. As for you, Klemet, another insult and insubordination, and I mutate you to stewardship. We’ll see what your ancestors will think about it.

The Norse had learned to take advantage of his rank. At his homeland, this kind of question was settled with fists, but he had been long explained that discipline was essential to run an army. This element, which was sometimes a cruel lack to Norse warriors, could even make the difference between victory and defeat. It was therefore important to remind who was in charge with the right way to prevent spillage.

It worked. The Dwarf did not answer, merely muttering into his beard. Beckett took advantage of the respite to sit on a tree stump, and reload his gun. He asked:

\- Captain, you're pretty lenient for a Norse. I thought your people were merciless to his enemies?  
\- I have my reasons. Now, enough talk! Let’s go!

The shooter had finished his operation. He stood up and put his arm over his shoulder. The posse went on his way.

While walking, Hallbjörn thought about the Skaven, and the real reason that prompted him to give him a little chance to escape. A few years earlier, he had worked as a mercenary for a rich notable of Altdorf. This one, fascinated by Skaven, used to study them seriously in the greatest secrecy. He even managed to capture a young female in transit between two Skaven cities. The notable had collected her, tamed her, and the latest news, she even started talking. Hallbjörn was attached to this harmless little thing, called Heike by his benefactor. This taught him the Skaven could be Humans, if they were treated as such.

\- "Sublime gold-furred fighter!" Klemet repeated with a chuckle, trying to warm up the atmosphere.  
\- It does not matter, Klemet, growled the Norse. You have to defend your honour, but I command. Remember.  
\- Captain!

Beckett had called the Norse nervously, trying to contain his voice to remain as unobtrusive as possible. Hallbjörn raised his hand, demanding to stop the little band, and joined the man with long whiskers.

\- What, Beckett?  
\- I’ve heard something.

Driven by a reflex acquired from his early years, Hallbjörn grabbed his heavy warhammer with his both hands. All four listened. Dead leaves on the floor creaked under the weight of something. Suddenly, half a dozen wolves sprang from everywhere, surrounding hunters. Beckett drew his gun and shot one. Hallbjörn looked more carefully. Wolves were common in Norsca and with the influence of the Winds of Chaos, they were generally larger and stronger, and often had few mutations. Those looked normal but were still very sturdy. A malignant gleam sparkled in their wards.

The four warriors gathered together, back to back, blades high, ready to defend themselves.

*

\- What a mess...

Klemet finished to cover with clay the hole in which they had deposited the half-gutted remains of young Frantz. Wolves had been particularly ravenous and furious. The young soldier had to withstand two of them simultaneously, and didn’t make it. Others had redoubled acrimony to resist. Beckett pulled nervously his long moustache, and bowed his head.

\- Poor kid… I’ve seen more glorious endings.  
\- He would have made an excellent soldier, Beckett, said the Norse. He gave his life so that we fulfilled our duty. We won’t disappoint him!  
\- No risk! the Dwarf snarled, raising his axe.  
\- Come on! I feel we’re approaching.

Indeed, half an hour later, three men came out last wood. They reached the edge of what looked like a mansion, surrounded by a wall which had collapsed a few sections. The huge rusty gate still standing.

\- Let’s go.

Hallbjörn didn’t bother to force the fence. He spotted a collapsed part of wall, letting an opening large enough to pass through. They found themselves in a large garden which had probably been beautiful days, but was now the prey of invasive and anarchic vegetation. Brambles, moss covered pavers, statues and fountains. There was even a fish pond, which contained only stones and unidentifiable blackish residue.

The small paved path was divided in two, around the large pool. Klemet wanted to take the left lane, leaving the two humans take the right one. He had no chance. He walked nearly a shrub on his left, and because of his smaller than Humans size, went stack the same height of one of the flowers. As it felt his presence, the flower unfolded suddenly, revealing its greenish petals and exhaling a cloud of pollen of the same colour.

Klemet coughed and coughed, felt the tears in his eyes and his throat irritate more. He turned to the bush, and realised with horror what was happening.

\- Hey, Klemet?

The two Humans hurried to join him. He cried between two coughs:

\- No! Stay away!

Hallbjörn stopped, and restrained Beckett. The Dwarf skin changed colour by eye, gradually losing its lustre to adopt a greyish complexion. He rumbled, his eyes ready to burst from their sockets:

\- Warpstone... corrupts... flower... poison.

Klemet cried out in pain as his body swelled, distended. He rolled on the ground. Beckett did not hesitate more. He grabbed his gun and fired a bullet that struck the poor Dwarf in the head. Klemet did move no more. His sufferings finished with his life.

Both humans dared not approach the body. They would have to leave it in place. Beckett spat with rage.

\- By Sigmar’s Hammer! What a miserable doom!

He turned to Hallbjörn.

\- We won’t say he died so stupidly, right?  
\- We’ll say we allowed us to escape a band of zombies by throwing himself into the crowd to delay them.

After all, they could afford to brighten things up a bit.

They took their way to the mansion. As they came to the door, the Norse opened it with a kick. They entered a dusty, dark, cold and wet hall. The atmosphere was charged with a particularly unhealthy smell like a real impression of death. The Norse was alert, his hammer ready to strike. All around him he could hear the cracks of rotten wood furniture, beams and staircase leading upstairs. He stepped forward and back hastily. The next moment, an old shield crashed at his feet. The two men looked up.

\- Even the decorative stuff is decrepit... Beckett murmured.  
\- Wait... the Grey Seer is somewhere in this house.  
\- Where is it, in your opinion?

A succession of small footsteps above them answered this question.

\- It’s hiding in the second floor.  
\- Here we go!

Ready to use again his reloaded gun, Beckett walked carefully, closely followed by the Norse. They reached the top of the stairs, progressed on tiptoe, applying to walk on the moldy carpet along the handrail of the mezzanine, to the only door. Hallbjörn cautiously put his hand on the handle, and opened in a jerk.

\- Die-die, men-things!

Three Skaven armed head-to-toe on both jumped humans. The first found himself with its head smashed with the Norse’s hammer. Beckett’s harquebus boomed once more, and the ball struck the second Skaven at the shoulder. The creature was thrown back in shock. The third one revealed to be the most dangerous. He jumped squarely on the rifleman, and pushed him, carried beyond the doorway. Beckett felt his kidney bruise on the ramp, and his blood boiled when he toppled tower over the wooden bar. With a brief but loud cry, he crashed a lower floor, head first.

Hallbjörn jumped back, screaming with rage. He spotted, a dozen feet below, the dark peeled Skaven lying on Beckett’s body, who had cushioned its fall. The ratman straightened in his direction, whistled in rage, and ran by the wide opened door.

\- I don’t believe it!

The Norse didn’t have time to say anything else. The shoulder injured Skaven returned to the charge. It jumped on his back, wrapped its arms around his neck and Hallbjörn felt the contact of wet saliva on his neck, as the infamous ratman was about to bite him. He dropped his hammer, grabbed the Skaven by wrist and bent over forward, bringing his attacker over his shoulder. It fell violently on the ramp which broke. The ratman squealed in pain. Hallbjörn grabbed its head with both hands and impaled it on one of the small decorative columns that stood out where the ramp had broken. The Skaven had a few nervous convulsions and didn’t move no more.

Silence returned to the lobby. The Norse was now alone. He picked up his hammer fell near him, and flung a kick in the skewered corpse.

_By Ulric’s mane... Beckett!_

Now, nothing was important. Whatever this "Undergrowth Terror" was, it wouldn’t only die. It would suffer martyrdom, a greater pain than all his companions fell together. Grey Seer Krasteech wouldn’t live a day longer!

Considering the room where the three Skaven were been hiding, he realised it was an antechamber. The kind of lounge that preceded the main reception room of the house. So the kind of place where holed generally those who claimed to be masters of the place. The ideal place for a megalomaniac White Skaven.

So it was without hesitation that the Norse drove double wooden door carved with a strong kick.

\- Krasteech! I’m going to pulp you!

As he expected, the captain had entered a large reception room, with high ceiling. The shutters were closed, and the few rays of sunlight filtered through the interstices of the boards revealed multiple dust grains. The furniture, which had been doubtless worthy of a baron, was now scattered throughout the room. The eyes of the Norse gradually became accustomed to the darkness. There were not only furniture on the floor. He saw the corpse of a woman in rags, her chest literally shredded.

An irritated growl sounded at the other end of the room. Hallbjörn looked up and finally saw the chief. The famous Grey Seer Krasteech. It was the first time in his life he saw such a Skaven. People of the Under-Empire regarded them as chosen ones those with the attributes of their god, the Horned Rat. Generally, these messengers had their body covered with white fur, and a pair of horns growing on their head. According what he knew about the people of ratmen, the White Skaven were able to manipulate a powerful and dangerous magic related disease and vermin.

And yet, what saw the Norse didn’t evoked absolutely nothing of it.

Of course, when he had read books on Skaven, and studied their personality, he had quickly forgotten the image he had of a priest of the Horned Rat. He had realised Grey Seers didn’t have nobility of soul and body of an imperial Theogonist, or simply Sigmar or Ulric priests. Grey Seers were perfidious beings, ready for all the baseness and treachery to raise the slightest crumb of power and prolong their life as long as possible. The spectacle which presented itself to him was even more distressing.

Krasteech wasn’t only scary, he was also grotesque, pathetic. He was a great Skaven, with a blowzy white coat, stained with dark dried blood spots and various other bodily fluids. He was naked, sprawled full length on the steps of a small staircase leading to the large wooden chair reserved to the owner. His fingernails were black with grime. His big ears fanned air under his two twisted horns, a slurry of coagulated blood was dripping from between his lips curled on his huge yellow teeth.

Hallbjörn was disgusted. A smell of mixed carrion, freshly turned earth, excrement and vomit burned his nostrils. How can such a pitiful creature could be at the origin of the legend of the Undergrowth Terror? He had fought wild animals, fiercely defending their land, animals which inspired him respect, because they were real lords. Even those struck by illness or worse, mutations, kept a little something that had incited the Norse to consider them as worthy opponents. Nothing comparable with the thing that was dragging awkwardly on the black carpet in his direction.

\- So, my guys are all dead for _that?_

Krasteech raised his head and lashed his tail with excitement. He opened his eyes wide. The Norse saw them clearly shine with a red glow, like two blazes. Krasteech parted his jaws and let out a furious hiss that cracked like a whip to the ears of the captain. He leapt forward, landing at the foot of the stairs. Still on all fours, he ran towards Hallbjörn.

The Norse jumped forward and slammed his hammer downward toward the head of the White Skaven. He rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the metal head of the weapon. The floor broke in a big crunch. Krasteech leapt on Hallbjörn, flung him to the ground and fell on him with all his weight. The captain gritted his teeth when he saw the huge fangs of the creature closer to his own face. He joined the index and middle fingers of each hand, and tried to gouge out the eyes of the creature. The Grey Seer whimper of pain and withdrew. Hallbjörn took the opportunity to tighten his legs, relax with a sharp blow to send his two feet in the stomach of the White Skaven.

Once released from this position of weakness, he plunged to his hammer, and picked it up in the movement. Krasteech retreated slowly, and shook his head before scolding again. The Norse saw his enemy curl up on himself, and anticipated the attack. He dodged a cast out to the side as the White Skaven leaped toward him. The creature spread against the wall, and found itself face down on the carpet. Hallbjörn raised his hammer, uttered a terrible cry and ran towards the creature. He made a down to up movement, hoping to crush the White Skaven against the wall. But at the last moment, the creature disappeared from his field of vision, and found itself a few feet from him, as if it had moved at an imperceptible to the eye speed.

The hammer of the Norse went through one of the windows, broke the glass and got stuck in the flap. Hallbjörn heard a faint chuckle as the White Skaven positioned himself slowly to savour his panic before jumping to his throat. The Human frantically pulled with all his might on the handle of his weapon to release it. So he tore the whole wood panel, and the sunlight dazzled the room. Hallbjörn had the reflex to protect his eyes with his hand. An obnoxious chorus of cries then slashed his ears. He kept his eyes half closed, but what he saw surprised at the highest point.

Krasteech rolled on the ground, shaken by violent spasms. His whole body smoked, and soon his fur caught fire. He seemed even uglier he had looked, now that he was in direct sunlight. But this spontaneous combustion seemed unreal. His coat burned completely in a few seconds, then his flesh broke away from his bones and rot as quickly, and finally the skeleton of the ratman disintegrated.

A few seconds later, all was over. The Norse couldn’t take his eyes off the black mark that was all that remained of Krasteech.

*

\- This is the moment I began to understand, Count. The Skaven that we had captured had told the truth. His master, Krasteech, had changed. He didn’t escape the mansion alive. Krasteech was no longer a Skaven, but a... a... you have a word for that?  
\- I was expecting something like this, even though I actually find it hard to believe. I had to check. And no, there is no word. The only would be... "Skaven Vampire".  
\- Amazing, huh? I wouldn’t have believed if I had not killed it myself.  
\- No wonder nobody doubted nothing. In an isolated, ignored and abandoned by the majority of mortals place, where there are only wild animals... I guess he only fed with the blood of his subjects or his prisoners, and the other devoured bloodless corpses, erasing the traces of his Vampire condition.

The Norse had finished his meal. Outside, the wind was blowing.

\- It’s still almost a year that runs the legend of the "Undergrowth Terror". You think it was Krasteech?  
\- No, he has only prolong this childish legend. The origin of this legend was the owner of the house where he was hiding. The real cause of this mess.  
\- In your opinion, Count, how this thing was created? Bitten by a Vampire?  
\- If a Vampire bite was enough to turn someone into Vampire, the world would be inhabited by Vampires long. No, it is a complex, long and intense process, for those who live it. And our laws don’t allow us to offer the Blood Kiss to anyone.  
\- Oh yeah? You are the masters, right? Can’t you do what you want, as you are almighty?  
\- Of course not! Can you imagine what kind of anarchy would it be if any Vampire engendered an offspring? No, a Vampire who wants to create another Vampire must obtain permission from the higher authorities, arguing the need to integrate the chosen person in our circle. As for me, I no longer do it, I have no more need. The von Carstein bloodline is already quite prosperous at this time. And we grant this favour only to those we were. Generally, Vampires were humans, only. And whoever violates any of these rules is quickly eliminated, and his offspring with. I have a theory about the existence of this wretched creature.  
\- I’m listening.

Count Mannfred von Carstein arose, and went to look at the surrounding countryside from the window.

\- I won’t unveil you all the secrets of the Masters of the Night, of course. But, at least, know this: there are several large... "families" of vampires. Each lives by its nature and its laws, although there are a few "universal" rules to avoid abuses.  
\- Like the watched reproduce?  
\- For example. The von Carstein are one of these families, the most influential in Sylvania, obviously. But it is not the only one living here.

The Vampire turned to Hallbjörn.

"If a Vampire had the nerve to generate another Vampire from a race as pitiful as Skaven, he was probably mad. Of course, he did it in secret, in order not to be sued by others. And if he had this twisted idea, it’s because his mind was so.  
"You see, sir Ludviksson, Necrarcs constitute one of the "families" I’ve mentioned earlier. They are self-proclaimed scientists, they are obsessed with education and science. They like to experiment, try new opportunities to increase the extent of their knowledge.  
"Regenschirm was a manor belonging to Aleksander Regenschirm. He was a Vampire of Necrarcs bloodline. Yes, he lived in Sylvania, but he was alone and didn’t interfere with our lineage, as he stood still. However, a few months ago, Regenschirm completely disappeared. No more signs of activity on his part, no more traces of magic, no more back-and-forth carts containing material, no more servants around. This coincides with what the underling that you found in the forest told you.  
"This is what happened, in my opinion: Regenschirm spotted a band of Skaven hanging out in his field in search of warpstone. This Skousîkh told the truth, there is warpstone everywhere in the region, including Drakenhof. Regenschirm managed to capture their Grey Seer, and decided to turn him to a Vampire, to see the result. I don’t know if he got what he really wanted, anyway Krasteech escaped his control, turned against him and killed him. This Necrarc didn’t foreseen that a Skaven struck by vampirism can be as you described: a wild hysterical beast having lost all logical reasoning in favour of unbridled violence. Regenschirm was not a fighter like you, he couldn’t defend himself against his "work".  
"Once his genitor destroyed, Krasteech left seek his minions, at night, and brought them in the mansion. Gradually, they felt their master was no longer the same, and that’s what made them so scared. They fed him, protect his mansion the best they could, awaiting orders from him, orders that would never come because of his mental change. He had lost the last shreds of consciousness during this period, to become a wild animal devoid of any intellectual capacity. And your company has arrived. You told me the end".

Hallbjörn realised something that worried him.

\- Do you think Krasteech could have transmit this disea... uh, I mean, the gift of Vampirism to other Skaven?

The Count had a little ironic spout hearing the rectification of the Norse.

\- Luckily, I don’t think, for one simple reason: as I said, we always carefully select our next child. And the process is long and requires passion. Much passion. Would have Aleksander had to teach him, but I doubt he had the opportunity and desire. To completely drain the blood of his chosen, and to make him drink Vampire blood it is not sufficient. You also have to animate the body with an unquenchable flame. A consecration to the new child. Strong and deep feelings shared. So many things that are completely unknown by these disgusting creatures.

Once again, Hallbjörn reminded Heike, but quickly drove this thought away, fearing the Vampire could detect it, and interested to it in turn. The latter continued:

\- It is obvious that a Skaven Vampire couldn’t have the necessary empathy to generate another Skaven Vampire. But I don’t want to let any eventuality. As I speak, my mortal trackers are rummaging the house from cellar to attic. They will get rid of everything they find. Skaven who ran in the open air will soon be caught, and if ever any of them can’t get out in the sun, it will be stuck in the property, and I will destroy myself if necessary. I just hope Krasteech didn’t dug galleries too deep in the mansion, I wouldn’t like to track down his possible offspring in dark and dusty tunnels. In any case, I owe you two.

The Norse raised his eyebrows in surprise.

\- Two? How?  
\- First, by eliminating this parody of Night child. This monstrous thing wasn’t only an insult to all vampires, but also a threat to everyone. I don’t think Krasteech gifted another Skaven with the Blood Kiss, but he could have. And his child would have done the same, and so on. Can you imagine what could have done a horde of Skaven Vampires? You have nipped in the bud a scourge. Thank you.

As von Carstein spoke, Hallbjörn felt a cold sweat it up between his shoulder blades. Furtive images of hairy abominations with long teeth gushing from the sewer to devour all the people made him shiver. Count realized this, and continued:

\- Second, you’ve found evidence proving Aleksander Regenschirm was conducting research that even I would find blasphemous. Men who have taken you here handed also all his notes in his office. He didn’t have time to describe what he did to Krasteech, step by step, but it clearly speaking about "bold future trials." In any case, I have something to calm Necrarcs. If they want argue with me because one of them is gone, I’ll just have to show them one of these analyses to deter them. A Necrarc who was making wicked experiences on my land... if wanted to overreact, I would use this evidence to declare them war. I won’t, my brave countrymen don’t need it. And your story seemed really interesting and entertaining at the same time.

Mannfred von Carstein took a few steps down, hands clasped behind his back.

\- I have only one word, Captain Ludviksson. Vassil will lead you into a room where a hot water bath and new clothes are waiting for you. Then you’ll climb into my carriage that will take you back to Nachthafen, where you can go back to the Moot, and regain Altdorf. Before leaving, my steward will give you back your weapons. Make your commander the report as you like, I know that nothing bad will happen to me anyway.

The Norse rose, nodded his head. Vassil invited to follow. Mannfred von Carstein said:

\- Now I’ll give you leave. I must think about how to present the story to Necrarcs. It was a pleasure to make conversation with you, captain. If we meet, I hope that it will be under as favourable circumstances, if not better.  
\- Yeah, yeah...

*

Count Mannfred von Carstein kept his promise, and a few weeks later, captain Hallbjörn Ludviksson could present his report. He insisted to announce himself the disappearance of his men to each of the concerned families. He told nothing about the horrors lurking in the Regenschirm mansion, preferring to praise the heroism and dedication that each of his soldiers had shown before the end.


End file.
